


The Castle Gates

by Arrexxion



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, I Don't Even Know, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6999181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrexxion/pseuds/Arrexxion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the woods to the Castle and whatever happens after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm losing my FanFic virginity with this little story.  
> Obviously don't own any characters, all credits to G.R.R Martin, not receiving any compensation etc, just exploring my interpretation of that fierce stare!

_** Brienne  ** _

Once again young Podrick has disturbed Lady Sansa who was lost in thought, clambering up on his horse with gestures of food and water. "Pod!" I glare, motioning for him to remove himself from her path. He averts his gaze from the young girl and his shoulders drop as he concedes to my command.  
"No.. It's truly alright Lady Brienne, thank you... Podrick" she says, affording him a smile her exhaustion won't allow to meet her eyes. She takes a chunk of bread that is well beyond stale frozen solid from the frosty air, with her long pale fingers. Having found her in the forest soaked to the bone even after spending an entire night warming by a fire in dry furs, she still has a deep purple about her lips, and a bluish hue to her skin. Her eyes are hallowed, and it is hard to tell if that is due to our tiresome journey, or the treachery faced at the hands of the Bastard Ramsay Bolton, or even worse still a combination of both.  
She has barely said a word since Theon Greyjoy disappeared into the woods. If she had let me, I would have dispatched that foul traitor, right alongside The Bastards men. However if not for their attack on Lady Sansa affording us the chance to commandeer their horses, our travels would have been on foot and with this never ending snow I fear Sansa Stark would have perished long before we could see the wall through the thinning of the forest. _Not much further Brienne_.

The Wall is such an impressive sight, its magnificence and beauty surpassed only by the intimidating prospects of what lies beyond.  
As we near the end of the woods it becomes apparent we have yet to truly feel the worst of the wind and snow, for without the cover of the forest, we are exposed, and this far North, Winter is well and truly here. 

The last remaining trees before a vast expanse of white, look to have been recently cut down, their trunks carving intricate trenches within the thicket of snow, heading off toward the wall.  
The gate is not much further, however we've yet to experience riding against the gale force winds. A look of hope shoots across the face of Sansa Stark, but as her eyes meet my own, that look is replaced by something closer to apprehension, a look none too familiar than the last time I saw her mother, the striking resemblance between Lady Catlyn and Lady Sansa, a constant reminder of a promise made and an oath yet fulfilled. I feel my bones fortify against the frost.  
"Not much further Lady Sansa, we must push on!" I shout against the relentless wind. _Not Much Further_.  
We kick against the horses, sending them off in full flight narrowing the gap between us and the gate. We pass a collection of makeshift tents with smouldering fires, and a large pile of tree stumps. Inside the Castle's gate a horn blows, marking our arrival. We slow down to a trot as the gate begins to open.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------

_** Tormund  ** _

_Oh these bloody Crows and that fooken horn. I swear.. When I get my hands on 'im.. Us Free Folk can't even take a piss outside the bloody doors without them blasting that darned thing.. Paid no mind when we dragged in logs to burn the dead traitor Crows did they, no, just hid in their tower and watched. Bloody Shites! Should just shove the horn up their arse and be done with it!_  
As the gates open it's the grunt of horses and the clang of hooves on the cold dry earth to first alert us, these are no Free Folk entering the walls of Castle Black. My fists tighten around my axe, for ye' can never be too ready for a fight.  
Long raven hair billows in the wind as the first horse comes into sight. A Lady. She's awful small.. but pretty like the Lord Commander. Maybe them Crows found Jon Snow a gift. He does like a woman red as fire.. _I'd need a good roll in the furs after waking up from death too.._  
A handful of Crows come scrambling by to see what all the fuss is, I can hear them mumble and can only assume their tiny Crow cocks are doing the thinking now.  
The second horse trots forward, its rider a mere boy, his voice cracks as he looks at us Free Folk standing here amongst the Crows, so me ears miss what he's barking.  
"Lady _somethin'_ accompanied Lady _somethin' else_ to see The Lord Commander Jon Snow.."  
"At once" her tone confident and demanding cuts the poor boy off, he looks like he's just been fed his own bullocks as the third horse trots to the front of the group and I think for a moment I've turned into one of them there Crows thinking with his cock, only mines not tiny like those fuckers. 

Not in all my raids have I seen a woman so large! Her thighs, muscular and strong, her shoulders broad as the horse she rides on. My pecker shifts beneath my under clothes and I can hear them bastard Crows laughing, she doesn't bat an eye mind, just slides off her horse and goes to help the little red girl who looks cold and scared. The little one must be High born as both the large one and the boy keep making a fuss over her.  
The High Born lass would be a prized creature to the kneelers what with a face so pretty, but it isn't her that's got my pecker hard as ice.   
That woman! I can't tear my eyes off her and when her gaze meets my own, I offer a cheeky grin.   
Dutifully she stands alongside the one with flaming hair, and combs her own short golden locks off her face with her fingers. She wears her scars with pride, another badge of honour is her busted nose, broken in combat no less, I can't begin to imagine what became of the cunts who dared to cross this "Lady Somethin'". Her hand is resting on her shiny sword, and she's covered in armour, fine armour at that. I've killed enough Knights in my raids to know one when I see one, but never a _Lady_ Knight. Besides these folk South of the wall prefer their men to go off fighting, and their women to stay at home with the babes.. But she... Tall and broad as a mountain.. No, a bear. She was built to fight. And us Free Folk, we live to fight and to fuck, and I, Tormund Giantsbane will die very happy if this SheBear, were to fight and fuck with me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, sorry it has taken so long to add more...

"Lady Sansa of House Stark heir of Winterfell, accompanied by Lady Brienne of Tarth" Podrick bellows toward the chorus of men beginning to crowd around us, "here with matters concerning The Lord Commander Jon Snow" his voice cracks.  
"At once!" The words are out of my mouth before having time to refine their harsh edges attracting a scowl from a fur-clad ruffian, one of the many wearing white and brown furs speckling the cluster of black cloaked men. Very swiftly it becomes apparent, we are not only in the company of those who have taken the Black but also in the presence of an unnerving crowd.  
With an agonising screech of their rusted hinges the gates close behind us and suddenly, Castle Black feels less like a sanctuary and instead far more sinister, and as the snow settles the doors in place - we have no escape, we are trapped.  
"Wildlings?" Podrick murmurs, eyes aghast, his voice barely audible over the riling group.  
_Couldn't be._  
_The Men of the wall are famed for protecting the south against those heathens._  
Looking over at Sansa, she is all airs and graces, a picture of beauty so out of place here at the Wall. In another life she could have wed a wealthy lord and been surrounded by a blossoming brood of Crimson haired children, her only concern choosing what colour gown to wear, not here at the end of the world, _no, far away from here,_ far away from the ice laden shackles of Castle Black, far away from the treachery the Stark family have faced, and far away from having ever been subjected to the gruesome assaults of the Bastard Ramsay Bolton.  
_Have they over thrown the watch?_  
An older worn out looking Nights Watchmen steps forward.  
"Me Ladies, sir" he nods with a thick Northern drawl.  
Gauging the potential threat, my eyes dart around the rabble in front of me, the expressions do little to stifle the rising anxiety in the pits of my stomach; but we must find the Lord Commander.  
_**Shit!** What of Jon Snow?_  
Squaring my shoulders and locking his gaze I gently rest my hand on the hilt of Oathkeeper, a silent warning that I am more than ready to open the throat of any man young or old, with ill intentions toward my charge Lady Sansa.  
"Simply wan'in ta help with ya horses me' lady" he adds, palms raised in allegiance.  
I nod in acceptance before dismounting my horse, handing the reins to Podrick as I assist Lady Sansa down to her feet, the old man taking her horse, leading Podrick off to the stables.  
Gripping my hand tightly she steadies herself on the uneven ground. Despite the hurt inflicted upon her, she carries the fight and fire of Lady Catlyn, and marches right through the crowd of onlookers, daring them to step forward my fingers trace the beveled handle of the cold Valyrian steel fixed firmly to my hip.  
"The Lord Commander will be right with you" says another black cloaked fellow as he ambles his way down rotten wooden steps obtruding from the frozen landscape, and disappearing amongst the crowd.  
To my right I hear whispers and stifled giggles, ridicule following even at the end of the world. _If they are close enough to be heard, with enough of a lunge, they are close enough for my sword to pierce straight through them like a rabbit over a spit fire._  
Hand grasping tightly on steel I turn to face them, willing them to give me just one reason to leave their bodies a pile of bloodied meat on the soft snow. There are three of them, though they are no longer laughing, my nostrils flare as the stench of piss takes hold and the snow begins to yellow at their feet, "s..sor...sor..sorry me lady" stutters the one who soiled his trousers, the others' faces filled with terror as a burly ginger haired monster of a man glares down at them. His face wild and ferocious causing the hairs on my neck to prickle.  
The doors at the top of the steps creak open and as quickly as his glare had rendered these men of the watch to cower with fear, when his eyes meet my own, the anger is gone.  
_Was that a... smile?_  
Sansa's hand rests against my arm and as I turn to her she inhales sharply, her full attention on the men making their way down the final few steps.  
"Jon" her voice like silk through the wind, her feet carrying her to him before his name can meet his ears. His arms wrap around her small frame engulfing her in a loving embrace.  
As though time had frozen - like everything else here at the Wall, not a single soul moves, there are no pillows of smoke as our hot breath escapes our lungs. No murmurs. No whispers. None of us exist. Just Sansa, and a mop of brown curls in heavy black furs.  
Podrick comes to stand beside me as I blink away the water pooling in my eyes.  
The two Stark siblings regain their composure, giving way for the necessary formalities to follow.  
"Lady Brienne of Tarth sworn shield of Lady Sansa Stark" I bow, "and this is my squire Podrick Payne".  
"Thank you for keeping my sister safe" he says shaking my hand.  
"It is my honour and privilege"  
"Come lets get you fed and out of this frost, Edd send some men to ready the bed chambers, my sister Sansa, Lady Brienne, and Podrick are our guests" he motions to the scrawny greasy haired gent I had barely noticed standing beside him.  
"Well you heard im!" Edd shouts at the three men still standing in the pool of yellowed snow.  
As they run off to their duties the wild red man laughs with a full bellied "Har!" brushing past me and tousling The Lord Commanders hair. "Yer sister is nearly as pretty as you Jon Snow" he adds with a wink.  
"Come, now... " Jon chuckles back "there's much to discuss" as he turns to head for the steps.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tormunds perspective.  
> *language Warnings*
> 
> \---------------  
> Hopefully it makes sense...

**-Tormund-**

_I wonder if she'd shout out my name..._

My mind is lost.  
Lost in shaggy golden hair.  
Lost in deep blue eyes.  
Lost in every scar.  
Lost in every angle and every line.  
Lost in pink full lips.  
Lost in the outline of her hard jaw.  
I have a half hearted gulp of the swill the Crows call ale, a few drops of slip from my mouth and trickle through my russet beard, tickling its way down my chin. Once again I am lost.  
_would she laugh as it brushes the sweet spot b'tween her legs.._  
I bite into the stale bread, the frost makes light work of everything we eat but I am thankful of every bite. Stale bread tastes a whole lot better than nothing at all, and since the Night Kings army of the dead had ravaged the land, it was only a matter of time until we succumbed to the starvation and inevitably succumbed to his cause.  
As I raise the leg of a chicken to my mouth I notice she has barely touched her plate, the hollows of her cheeks scream out her hunger plain as day.  
_I bet she tastes better than this bird._  
Lapping at the flesh willing her to look my way, her eyes are fixed on her calloused hands. Hands hardened by battle and by riding.  
_does she ride a pecker like she rides a horse.._  
_Fuck me... Now you've done it!_  
Shifting on the wooden bench so my cock doesn't chop the table in two, it's as hard as bloody rock! _**Again!**_ The movement draws her attention as I take another bite of chicken. She holds my stare, her cheeks turning from pale white to the same shade of pink as her lips, her body telling the truth of the affect of our silent interaction, even when her expression remains stern and duty bound.  
_I must have her._

I've lain with many women, we Free Folk do what we please. If you are worthy of a woman she will let you have her, some let you have them even when you're not. But _Brienne_ is a Southron lass, wasted on Southron men. Those kneelers wouldn't know how to draw the scarlet out of her cheeks, they wouldn't want to taste every bit of her body, or make her scream with wanting. They wouldn't let her take charge or treat her like the warrior I see before me. For they are not free, not like us, they are too frigid and too stuffy, too caught in their titles and their duties, even Jon Snow couldn't truly be free. I've no doubt he loved young Ygritte, he wears the pain of her loss like the wounds inflicted on him by the dead Crows, but his honour and duty ended with not only her death, but that of his own.  
_I must earn her.._

 

The last of the remaining Crows stands to leave, the Free Folk had long gone having gathered whatever rations could be spared, preferring to eat in their camps. So there is just our small table left in the cold damp dining chambers. I've no idea how long I've been staring nor how long they've been talking until my name breaks through my daydream.

"Tormund here is... Well... The... Newest leader... of the Free Folk.." Jon explains waving his hand toward me as he takes another bite of bread "getting them safe passage was no easy task by any measure" he continues whilst he chews.  
"Tormund _Giants_ bane" I say with a smirk. The emphasis not lost on the crowd. But, she'll know that soon enough herself when she begs me to join her in her bed chambers,  
"No, 't wasn't Jon Snow" I add nodding back at him. "You saved our lives... Something no Crow has ever done.." I sip my ale while she watches me.  
"And them bloody traitors killed 'im for it!" Edd adds, slamming his horn down hard, liquid spilling out onto the table.  
"Edd! Not tonight!" Jon Snow quips back, his inescapable burden painted on his face.  
"They what?" The one they call Sansa asks, her face screwed up the same a bears arsehole.  
Like the rest of us, she searches the Lord Commanders eyes for an answer. An answer and a truth too painful to say. But how do you? How do you say two days ago he was dead, now he isn't. How do you say two days ago he was dead, but today in rides a sister he never should have seen again. How do you put your hurt above her own with all she has endured? Wed to the bastard son of the traitor who helped kill her family, raped and tortured everyday until her escape. Finding Brienne and Podrick in the woods and battling the snow to get here, here to her brother who is no longer himself. I heard her story before Brienne stole my thoughts, it was the pursing of the lips at every uttered word and the anger in her eyes that drew me in, but not before Jon Snows fists had clenched and jaw had tightened, fury burning in his lost soul.  
"Yes... Sansa... They did.." His words curt, not wanting to continue.

Thinking of Jon Snows cold dead corpse has my cock as limp as the dangling bodies of the traitor Crows in the gallows. A welcomed reprieve.  
So many cuts. Pale body laid bare. I had imagined chopping the traitors to pieces, hacking off a limb with my axe for every wound inflicted on him and every Free Folk life he'd saved.  
I would have saved the old one, the instigator until last. By then he would have pissed and shit and begged and cried but that would have only fuelled me further. For him, death would have been slow. There are Free Men who prefer the company of other men, they could have had their fill long before he faced my wrath, the wrath that would avenge The Lord Commander Jon Snow.  
When Jon Snow and the few loyal Crows arrived at Hardhome and fought for our lives, I knew. When the boats gave my people safe passage to The Wall I knew. When my life was spared from the army of the dead, I knew it then too. But it was not me to avenge him. When he walked out of the Castle only moments behind me, when his sword struck the rope committing them to a traitors death, I knew I would always be tied to him. I knew I would fight until my last dying breath, and I knew that any hand laid on this conflicted Crow would be that fools last. Whether by me, or any man at this table.  
Jon Snow saw the goodness in my people.  
He made a choice.  
A choice to rescue a few in order to save so many.  
A choice that saw him betray an oath.  
A choice that got him killed.

"But.... You're alive?" The little red haired girls voice cracks against the words.

_it don't make no sense to me either_

"Yes... Sansa... I am" 

"But... How?"

"Blood magic." Her voice cuts straight through the room and makes its way straight to my loins.  
_Brienne.. What. Are. You?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter was a lot longer, however my wifi crapped itself as I was posting. The next chapter should be up quickly as the rest of this one is still fresh in my mind.... Save your work ppl... Argh!

Ch 4

Brienne

After an evening of sharing sorrows in the dank dining hall of Castle Black the new Lord Commander Doloros Edd escorted me to my bed chamber on the way to his own. Podrick had left before sun down to check on our horses in the stables, though I believed it was a polite departure from the forlorn discussions at hand. His growing fondness for her meaning he'd especially not want to once again relive the tragedy that had befallen Lady Sansa.  
At her behest she bid me my leave as she had chosen to stay and converse further with her half brother Jon Snow.  
Honestly my body could use the rest but above that, I was grateful to be spared the uncomfortable watch of the Wildling leader they call Tormund who showed no effort to disguise his _amusement_ , smirking at my appearance all throughout supper, dribbling food down that ridiculous red beard, the intensity, nay, _hunger_ of his stare nullifying my appetite despite the rising growl of my stomach.  
Even after learning of the exploits leading them here, the anxiety of the Wildling presence would not relent. They had been given safe passage, however returned to protect and defend the dead body of Jon Snow, who was now very much alive.  
Since then the traitors who heartlessly murdered their Lord Commander had been hanged, and with their bodies burned there was no further threat to Jon Snow, but yet the Wildlings stay.

"Can you trust them.. The Wildlings?" I had asked Edd on our way through the icy training yard.  
"You know.. I never did.. Even when we fought alongside 'em at Hardhome.. I'd been waiting for em to decide to come back and storm the gates.. It was always Jon who saw them as people first.. People who deserved a chance against the White Walkers." He'd said, his eyes gazing far off in the distant night.  
"But then.. Why have them stay any longer? Jon Snow is out of harms way.. Well, imminent harm at least. Your men clearly fear them.. I saw one soil himself earlier because of that giant brute Tormund"

The resounding "Ha" that came from the small bodied man echoed through the darkness.  
"I think he's taken an interest in you, me lady.." chuckling on his words, but continued to explain how the siege he'd anticipated never came once they were South of the Wall and safe. It was his own brothers who had betrayed them and the Free People did not hesitate to answer his call to arms, returning at once to defend the Lord Commander.  
"I knew it then, Lady Brienne.. They sure don't 'ave our laws and look rough as fuckin' shit.. Pardon.. Look quite rough.. But they value your word.. ya know.. they value loyalty and they value strong fighters.. and Jon Snow has shown 'em that.." He had stopped by a rotten wooden door, the glow of fire peaking through the cracks. "It's not much, but it's a whole lot better than the forest.." He'd said opening the door for me.  
I couldn't help but wonder how his life had lead him to the Night's Watch. There was a kindness to him the other men didn't seem to possess. "Well.. better get some rest.. it's a long day t'morro.. have to sort out how to convince Jon to stay on as Lord Commander or else I'll be sworn in.." the weight of duty hanging heavy on his brow, "And we've New recruits to train" he'd finished with a sigh, scratching the stubble on his chin.  
"I could help you train them, if you'd like. My squire Podrick and I train twice a day. His swordsmanship is improving.. But it might do him good to fight someone of... similar _skill_ " his face had lit up as though I'd given him an answer to a question he didnt know to ask, he nodded and walked further down the hallway of rotten, rickety doors. And on opening his, the hall had filled with the light of the small fire warming his room,  
"thank you and good evening my lady" he nodded once again, before quickly adding "I'm sure Tormund will appreciate your help" ducking in the room and laughing happily as he closed the door behind him.

_**Seven bloody hells!** _

Walking into the room, it was indeed _not much_. A cot laden with black furs smelling of damp, a small window looking out into the training yard. An iron basket housing a smouldering log warming the room and filling it with light, and a cracked wooden stand for me to hang my armour.  
It seemed everything at Castle Black was either small, damp, rotten, cracked, broken or rickety, I had noticed. And sadly found out as I laid down to sleep the cot was a tragic combination of the lot. My mind was restless plagued by the evenings conversation, but despite the exhaustion in my bones sleep would not come. Tracing the curves of the stone walls with my eyes and relishing the crack and hiss of the slow burning fire I was relieved to have a bed to sleep on and some privacy to collect my thoughts, and yet even with this relief my mind would not allow me to relax nor shake the feeling of being agitated and alert.  
When the creak of the door from the adjoining room marked echoed through the hall, I'd heard the soft sobbing of Lady Sansa and Left my room immediately to knock on her door, hearing her choke up as she invited me to enter.  
"Would you like some company whilst you sleep my lady?" I'd asked empathetically, knowing from our nights in the forest of the nightmares that terrorised her when she closed her eyes.  
"Thank you Brienne, but I am sure you need rest just as much as I do" replying as she wiped a tear from her cheek, "besides.. I'm fine.. I have Jon back.. I am safe now.. these tears.. they are good tears..." the words catching in her throat revealed her desire to convince herself of their truth as much as me "so please.. go get some rest.. I will need your help tomorrow.." It was clear this was an order as she turned away from me to face the moonlit window, shivering in her bed as she covered herself in her furs, the iron basket of fire long burned out leaving the room cold and smelling of ash.

"Goodnight my Lady" I whispered closing the door over as I left.  
"Goodnight Brienne" her solomn reply fighting through the newest onslaught of tears and stifled sobs.

As I'd made my way back to my room, the moon was high above the training yard casting its light through the window. Under the cover of the forest trees we had yet to see the beauty of the night sky this far north. The vast expanse above glistened and gleamed as the stars shone brightly through deep purpled clouds. A fresh crop of snow began to fall ever so gently. All I could do was stare in wonder until I found myself praying to the Mother on behalf of Sansa Stark.

_Please grant her a dreamless sleep for she has endured more than her share.._

The warmth of my breath clouded against the frosty glass pane, wiping it with my palm exposed a shadowed figure walking through the training yard. As they came into the open court the delicate snow began to catch on white and brown furs covering their large body, with eyes firmly closed, their head tilted upward as they smiled in the night, the moonlight dancing off their bright red mane.  
_Tormund Giantsbane_  
My brow creased as I picked apart the image before me. Today his fearsome glare had rendered a young man incontinent, at dinner he guzzled his food so greedily it spilled all over himself whilst he smirkled in my direction.

_I think he's taken an interest in you, my lady.._

The words stirred something deep within, turning my heart to knots as I recalled the name I hadn't dare speak since embarking on this journey.  
_Jaime.._

As the last ember of my fire died out the room was cloaked in darkness, drawing the attention of the Wildling Leader still lingering in the frost.  
As his eyes met mine, there was nothing wild or ferocious, just a man who'd been admiring the beauty of the sky above. His smile not at all like earlier today, instead soft and pleasant and almost kind. My cheeks warm as the corners of my mouth curl up to offer a smile in return.  
The exchange is short before he disappears into the darkness once again leaving a heavy trail of footsteps in the newly fallen snow.  
When I climb back into my makeshift bed my mind finally gives way as I fall heavily into the most vivid of dreams.

_The sun beams down in the grounds of Evenfall, flowers blossoming in the Springtime. A little copper coloured bear cub scampers clumsily after a butterfly, tumbling to the ground on unsteady feet. He cries out, beckoning my attention. Cautiously lifting the little cub into my arms, his eyes shaped just like mine sparkle sapphire blue as I wipe away a tear with a bearlike paw. His tiny arms claw against my own golden fur as he curls into the warmth radiating from my chest and drifts off into a peaceful sleep. I am overwhelmed by love for this tiny creature. And yet my heart is filled with yearning. Cuddling him closer I place my wet nose to his as a tear escapes my eyes. We are home. But **He** is not._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sexy time.
> 
> Original female character introduced. Don't fret, Tormienne/Brimund is end game. Ingeh is someone to pass the time..

**_Tormund_ **

 

The evening was relatively still, the latest crop of snow had just started to fall bringing with it a quiet chill. Tormunds head was heavy with intoxication having stayed in the dining hall drinking ale until the moon was full and plump in the sky. As he made his way through the training yard the tiny icicle flakes brought a soothing relief to his hot flushed cheeks reminding him of the crimson hue that had washed over her as she met his gaze, the crimson hue that had plagued his thoughts all evening. He had struggled to focus on the discussions at the table, instead imagining all the ways he'd worship her muscular body.  
Even now in moonlight he felt bewitched by the memory of her, the heat building in his loins made him chuckle out to the sky above him.  
_Brienne of Tarth_ even her name carried like a song in his mind, only adding to his dizzying state, _what am I to do about you_.  
As he closed his eyes he could see her face scrutinising every action he made, he had believed she felt the heat of his gaze, but apart from her blush she had given nothing away as to whether the attraction was reciprocated. He had felt the twinge down in his furs reminding him of the relentless ache for a woman's touch, he knew he needed release, but he also knew he'd have to make do with finding his release in the arms of a Free Woman, and not the arms of the woman he truly desired.  
He let out a sigh, it wouldn't be an easy task finding a woman close enough in features to still his wayward thoughts. There were a few with golden hair like Briennes, but most were were too old, or too thin, or too small for his large body and he wanted somebody who could break him as easily as he could them, he needed a warrior, and even though the Free Women were used to fighting for survival and could kill a man without batting an eye, none had her frame, her face or her ferocity, but still for now he would have to make do.

A fire burning out in a window above drew his attention, and as if the Gods themselves were taunting his raging cock, there she stood, her face ignited by the shining light of the moon. A part of him thought for a moment about climbing the walls and taking her then and there, however a greater part reminded him of what he truly wanted from her, and it was not just one night, what he wanted from her would last until the end of his days. He gave her a soft smile, knowing if he stood still any longer he would most likely explode on himself and the inside of his under clothes. When she held his gaze and smiled back he couldn't bare it anymore. He had to find someone, he had to find them right now, he wouldn't care how they'd look, he would close his eyes and see her face smiling back at him in the moonlight. 

He turned quickly, forgetting how much ale was sloshing around in his belly, it took all of his concentration to steady himself and force his feet to wade through the bed of snow. It wasn't long before he was at the gate, arguing with the snotty little Crow about who he was and why he was leaving so late.  
"Fuck off you shite!" He barked, pushing against the giant door just enough to squeeze through.  
The Free Folk had their fires still burning and he could hear the raucous laughter echoing from the tents, so he made his way toward the noise.  
"Surely I'll find myself someone tonight" he thought, knowing he'd never had trouble finding a Free Woman to lay with in the past.  
Stopping to empty his bladder in the shadow of the nearest tent he could hear the soft sobs coming from inside. The pain that had built up in his groin made even taking a piss hurt, his steadying hand eliciting a wicked sensation, caused him to let out a slight groan.  
"Who's there? I'll chop off your cock if you dare come in.." The voice of the woman who had been crying in the tent came out as more of a stammer than a threat.  
"It's Tormund Giantsbane, lass.. And I'd like to keep my cock" he laughed, looking at it resting in his large hands.  
"What are you doing hiding in shadows.. I thought you were a fucking Crow!" He felt the tip of her sharp blade poke the small of his back, before the voice had given away her position so close behind him.  
"No need for that, woman, just taking a piss and moving on" he turned to face her exposing her to the full length of his enormous pecker before tucking it away, as she withdrew her dagger.  
His heart began to break for her as he recognised who she was. Her dark hair and dark eyes. The fleshy pink scar on her cheek. Her sunken cheekbones and distressed stare. Her name was Ingeh. Before losing everyone she cared for during the devastation at Hardhome, she was a beautiful mother and fearsome archer. Debris had knocked her to the ground, slicing open her cheeks, and crushing her two young sons to death, their father falling in the carnage soon after. She had been dragged kicking and screaming to the safety of the boats, looking on in terror as their tiny bodies awoke alongside their fathers at the command of the Night King.  
"Didn't mean to trouble you Ingeh" he said, and he meant it. He realised since Jon Snows death, and resurrection he had been completely caught up in everything happening inside the walls of Castle Black, but had barely acknowledged the full weight of what many of his people had lost.  
"Don't look at me with pity." She spat, "the dead may have taken all that I loved, but what they gave me in return was even more fight! I will gladly skin alive the next person that looks at me like I'm a shrivelled old prune!" Her eyes locked on his in a tight sneer, the twitch of his cock signalling he'd found exactly _who he was looking for._  
"I don't pity you woman." Tormund scoffed. "We are lucky to be living. We can still pick up a blade and split the flesh of our enemies. We can still make our heads dizzy with ale, or sour goats milk. We can still share the warmth of another body. Taste their salty skin..."  
" _ahhh... So you are still one of us Free Folk then aye?.._ and here I was thinking you were turning into a Crow!" She was laughing now. "So are you going to share my warmth or taste my skin Tormund Giantcock?" Her smile gave way to her desires and to her need. "Don't just stand there, it's fucking cold out here" she finished heading back into her tent.  
She wasn't Brienne, but she was a warrior and this would have to be enough for him for now, so in he went. Ingeh had removed her clothes before Tormund had made his way inside the tent. Her nakedness revealed her slight frame. Her limbs were wiry and lean, her long dark hair fell in thick knotted clumps over her shoulders down to her small firm breasts. Her torso was marred by the stretching and scarring of childbirth, a daily reminder of the lives she carried within her taken so horrifically. But it was the protrusion of her rib cage and hip bones that had Tormunds mind afire, _was she starving herself?_ he wondered unable to control the furrow forming at his brow as he helplessly stared.  
Ingeh was beginning to feel guilt building in the pit of her stomach, her brazen attempt at seduction was beginning to wear thin, her motives for their interaction beginning to give way to the betrayal of the man she loved. Instinctively, she wrapped her lean arms around herself in protection.   
Tormund had wanted to find someone he could throw his body against, someone to pound into without a second thought, but here in the tent with Ingeh, her naked body leaving her exposed and vulnerable, he knew whatever she wanted from him probably wouldn't just be a quick release. This was not a woman whose body survived creating two babes, nor was she a woman who scaled the walls of Castle Black when they made their siege, this was someone else, this was what happened when everything good was stolen from someone, this was all that was left, but most importantly, this is why he stayed here with the Crows, Jon Snow was the Free Folks best chance for surviving the long night to come, even if it left them empty and alone. _at least we are still alive_ He walked to her and wrapped his large fur clad arms around her, engulfing her body with his own, breaking down the last of her walls.her head sank against him and she wailed. Eventually her cries were muffled against his chest, Tormund was certian from the way her body trembled against his, if he were to let her go she would collapse in a heap on the floor.  
Finally the last of her tears burned their way from her eyes, leaving them red and stinging in the chilly night.  
"No one will ever want me. Not like this" she said, pointing to her scars and hollowed out body, the agony of her admission not lost on Tormund, for it wasn't the physical form she was alluding to, but the loss of her spirit that had kept her confined, crying alone in her tent. "I miss him. His lips on mine. His touch. His smell.." She draws in a breath, taking in Tormunds scent, and runs her hands down his back. He knows she needs his touch as much as he needs hers, so he gently raises his hand to her chin lifting her face for their mouths to meet. Her kiss is salty and sweet and he could feel the traces of moisture from her tears. The action moved quickly from tender to aggressive as she bit his bottom lip, pulling it playfully in her teeth whilst her hands found their way to his matted red mane.  
"Please" she begged, haphazardly clawing away at his thick fur coat in removal.  
Tormund marched her backward until they fell on Ingeh's bed, making quick work of the last of his furs. He was more than ready, his cock springing back in attention when freed from his under clothes. Ingeh gouged her nails down Tormunds shoulders, tracing scars from lucky blows received in battle. _at least she still has fight in her_ he chuckled to himself against the constant onslaught of her wanton lips on his. As his hands found their way to her breasts, his calloused fingers worked gently at her nipples, the sensation causing goose flesh on Ingeh's body and making her shiver. He followed the trail his hands had made with his lips, nipping and biting his way down to her breasts whilst his rough hands traveled further down until they brushed the coarse mound of hair between her thighs. Her body writhed against Tormunds hand, begging him to continue and finding his thumb more than happy to oblige. He began to circle the little bud at her entrance that had always made other women shudder in ecstasy, his fore finger searching for her building wetness. When her hips started to match his rhythm he knew she was almost ready for him, he sucked and nipped at her bosom whilst building the speed in the hand working on the parting of her legs. "Please" she beckoned him finally finding the strength in her voice, and moving her hands to his hardness. Tormund took hold of his large cock, he had waited in agony all day for the warmth of a woman's flesh, but he loved the way Ingehs body squirmed in the heat of a good fucking, so he continued to work at her bud, this time with the tip of his member, teasing and tantalising Ingeh's slick wet cunt. Her hands had found their way back to his shoulders and using all of her strength she pushed at him hard, jolting Tormund backward so they were now sitting upright face to face. Her dark eyes searching his. "Please!" She demanded seriously, her irises glistening with the soul reawakening inside her, her legs circling Tormunds waist, driving their bodies closer together until he was forced to concede. He really was large, and even though she had birthed two children he could still feel her walls stretching around his thick shaft. Their hips moved together, ever so slowly as he pushed in and out of her, gradually deeper with each thrust. Tormund was getting closer and closer to his release, and from the satisfied moans escaping Ingeh's mouth, he knew she wasn't far off either. As he closed his eyes savouring the moment, his mind conjured the face that had lead him to seek his sweet release. Golden hair. _thrust_ Eyes blue as gems. _thrust_ Freckles speckling fair skin like snowflakes in the moonlight. _thrust_ The crimson of blushing cheeks. _thrust_ A smile. _thrust_ _thrust_ _thrust_ _thrust_ Ingeh's body began to jerk and spasm, the muscles of her womanhood contracting and tightening against Tormunds girth, igniting the shockwaves within himself. The explosion was euphoric, his breath lost to groans of pleasure. Both panting against each other and collapsing back down on her bed. "Again" she smirked with more light about her reminding Tormund more of her former self as his mouth met hers again, his cock hard and at the ready. That night, and for the first time since Hardhome, Tormund and Ingeh slept, appreciating the warmth and touch of one another, but both wishing for the warmth and touch of someone else. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2:11am, I haven't edited this chapter yet... Sorry.


	6. Chapter 6

Ingeh

The nightmare comes and goes.  
 _The Free Folk have gathered with the leader of The Crows Jon Snow. It's rumoured he is here offering safe passage through the gate._  
No one wants to trust him.   
How could they when he had allowed Ygritte to **die**?   
Ygritte who had taught her how to hold a bow and fire an arrow.   
Ygritte who had held a warm cloth to her head and forced her to keep fighting when her body was tearing itself apart and she had no strength left to push her first born son out of her womb. Ygritte who had been like a sister, mocking Ingeh when she'd swooned and fallen in love, but held no detail back when she'd too fallen into loves trap, with the Crow no less.  
How could she trust the King Crow when all she wanted was to kill him. How could she trust him with her sons lives as well as her own, when he couldn't be trusted with the life of someone he'd loved himself?   
The arguing voices grow louder and louder bringing with it complete darkness. Her skin prickles. She knows what's coming but can do nothing to stop it. It is only then that the flame haired girl appears, standing before her, begging Ingeh to heed her warning.   
"Go with him! Go with him now! Run!" Her voice terrified but commanding.   
And as the nightmare always does the darkness is replaced by the roar of the blinding white that crashes down, crushing everything in its path.   
The arguing voices turn to screams of anguish, but they too succumb to the White.  
Ingeh falls to the ground, her head spinning, her face throbbing with a sharp almost burning pain, but she cannot focus on it, she is fighting to focus on them.  
"They will be scared.." A voice echoes, "you need to find them.. They need their mother" her voice sounds familiar, beckoning Ingeh toward the dark.  
A woman is screaming out their names, she is panicked and hoarse yet her screaming never subsides, the sound bursting Ingeh's ears.   
Dark shadows creep out of the whiteness, their movement fearsome and animalistic, clawing and tearing at the wailing sounds of the no longer arguing Free Folk, until they wail no more, the sound replaced by silence and the heavy stench of death.  
Ingehs legs refuse to move and the woman's piercing howls refuse to end,   
"where are my boys?" She bellows, right as the thought dances through Ingeh's mind.  
"Run" the flame haired girl commands again as Ingeh scrambles to her feet.   
She turns to head toward the darkness not yet plagued by what hides in white, the woman's voice still aching in her ears.   
"My babies!" The other voice is so close, close enough to touch but her words are agonising and Ingeh can feel them choking the breath right out of her. Her feet find earth beneath them as she pushes her sinewy legs forward, faster with each step. She can feel the whiteness gaining on her and as she steals a glance, her foot catches on something cloaked in darkness and she tumbles forward landing on the soft debris. It is cold and misshapen, bony but fragile and delicate, and even in the darkness she knows.  
"My babies" the woman cries, as the all consuming White catches up to Ingeh, alighting their tiny broken bodies. Ingeh's sight begins to blur and her face becomes wet with tears.  
"My babies!" The voice chokes, and Ingeh's throat burns and cracks.  
She wipes away at the crimson hiding their beautiful faces, but it won't come off. Their cheeks are grey where they should be pink and there is nothing but black in the space where full brown eyes used to glisten back at her.  
"They look so cold and scared" the woman whispers to her as Ingeh brushes their curls away from the growing pool of red, until the black hollows of their eyes shine bright once again, but not the warm brown they once were, no, now they shine ice blue, the ice blue of the dead. Their tiny bodies bend and crack, their mouths twist to a fearsome snarl, but it is the sound that fixes Ingeh and place, leaving her frozen in fear.

_Arms wrap around her waist, yanking her body from where she lay._  
Her hands reach out not wanting to leave the babies behind.  
She screams and fights and kicks, but the arms are stronger than she is.   
She can feel the fight leaving her body. It wants to stay and hold them and shield them from the White, just like she does.  
But the arms around her pull her closer. They are warm and make her feel safe, where the White is numbingly cold and filled with death. Their death. 

_The White is almost touching her now she can feel the chill it brings, she welcomes the chill, she has convinced herself if she could just free herself from the tight grasp pulling her away, she would be with them, she would protect them._  
"My babies!" She screams as the arms pull her into their chest.   
They are warm, they are safe.   
She can hear him now over her ragged breathing.  
"Wake up Ingeh.. You must wake up" he says as the arms around her firm their grip once more.   
She can smell his scent but cannot force her eyes apart, she knows what the whiteness brings so she clenches them tighter still.  
"Ingeh" his voice does not match the ones she begs to hear. She tries to block it out and pull their sweet sound out of her memories. But all she can hear is a woman's scream and all she can see is the pooling red halo and bright ice blue eyes calling her back to the all consuming White.  
The hands are at her shoulders, they are so warm against the deathly cold. They rock her body as they forcefully shake her.  
"Ingeh" his voice is at an alarming yell, but still the woman screams.  
"My babies.." She calls again as the world around her fills with vivid colour. She can feel the warmth of his hands. And smell yesterday's ale on his breath. The whiteness and darkness replaced by thick muscular arms ablaze with flaming red hairs. The arms connect a sculpted chest, covered in the same flaming red hair.  
"Ingeh.." His voice much softer now.  
She squints and blinks until she can him clearly, his thick red beard tickles against her as he rests a gentle kiss on her forehead, his bright green eyes look upon her, their pained expression searching and pleading for a response.  
"Tormund" she sobs, nestling into his chest, giving way to her heartache as he holds her together, she is certain if he were to let her go now she would surely be lost to the nightmare once again.  
"Ingeh.." he whispers, surrounding her with his body, "..can't begin to know how ye' deal with this. I can only tell you to keep fighting and be strong. Not much good to ye' I know."  
Her tears burn against her flesh. Her body hangs limp in his embrace. She cannot bare to look him in the eye for fear she'll be exposed by her shame and vulnerability.

 

He holds her in silence as the winter sun shines brightly on the makeshift tent, marking the start of another morning without them.

She knows he is a good man and would stay with her if she asked it of him, but she also knows his words were true. If she is to survive this heartache, she must keep fighting, and she must do it on her own.   
"Tormund.. You should leave.. I'm sure you've more important things need doin' then staying holed up in 'ere" her voice ragged, grating against her dry aching throat.  
"I should, yes. I've much need doin'. Jon Snow needs my help with his new flock of Crows.. But my people will always come first Ingeh. So here I am. Whilst ye need me." He pulls her away from his embrace, looking upon her with the same pained expression.   
"No.. You're right.. I need to find who I was.. Before all this.. You should go if the King Crow needs ye' tis why we're 'ere back at the Wall" she wipes her cheeks, and pulls away from his hands, standing to fix her under clothes and her furs.   
Tormund rises to do the same, but watches her every movement as though he is waiting to catch her when her legs give way to her pain. But it never does. Instead she straightens her back, and breathes heavily, choosing her words carefully as she makes her leave from the tent.   
"We should've trusted him.. The King Cr.. Jon Snow. They might've made it if we did.. It was nice to lay with ye' and feel the warmth of a mans touch.. But don't come back to me bed again. Go now.. Help 'im raise his flock of Crows. The long night is upon us, and what's left of us Free Folk need 'em strong and brave."


End file.
